


Misjudgement

by Twyd



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Recovery, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 06:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: "He hasn’t heard from Izaya for a few days. This shouldn’t be unusual, except, well, it is. He hasn’t realised until now how much time they actually spend together."





	Misjudgement

He hasn’t heard from Izaya for a few days. This shouldn’t be unusual, except, well, it is. He hasn’t realised until now how much time they actually spend together. 

The last he’d heard from the flea had been the night of his brother’s gala. Izaya had teased Shizuo in the run up to that night, threatening to pull something, knowing it meant a lot to Shizuo. But, the night had come and nothing had happened. Except, halfway into the show, Izaya had called him, called him five times, and Shizuo had ignored it, thinking it a wind-up. But, he had felt guilty towards the end of the night, and ducked into one of the theatre fire exits in the rain to call the informant back. And of course he hadn’t answered. There hadn’t been any answer the following day, either.

This doesn’t mean anything. All it means is that Izaya is busy or winding him up, doling out a lazy punishment for not picking up the phone. _Surely_ this is what it means. 

Because even though Izaya had never called him, or anyone, probably, five times in a row in his life, Izaya is as self-sufficient as a cockroach, and he doesn’t need Shizuo to come to his rescue. 

Shizuo tries calling him again. He even tries the secretary’s line, which goes straight to voicemail, telling him Izaya could have gone away without telling him. It’s possible. They hadn’t been doing this very long, so it didn’t surprise him that Izaya could have gone away without telling him. Boundaries were still being set. Hence his anxiety over Kasuka’s big night. That had been, in these new waters, his first time asking Izaya for anything, asking him not to fuck things up that night. And Izaya had apparently kept his word. But, something else is going on, Shizuo can feel it.

He’d never worried about fucking things up with Izaya because he’d never thought there was anything to fuck up. It’s  _ Izaya _ . He’s impossible to hurt, impossible to offend, and there was no way of letting him down because Izaya never confides in anyone anyway, never calls for help. Until now, perhaps. Shizuo had been getting used to having Izaya on his side, getting close to him, and he can’t stand the possibility that he may have let him down when the informant needed him most. 

As soon as he sees Izaya, he decides, and inevitably finds the informant’s all right, he’s going to insist the flea at least text him to tell him when he’s going to be busy or wrapped up in something, and for how long, in these situations, and not leave Shizuo to torture himself. And if Izaya just laughs in his face, well, at least he’ll know where he stands.

_ He could be dead somewhere. _

No, that’s ridiculous. He’s probably working at home or at some over-priced sushi joint in Shinjuku, laughing over how worked up Shizuo must be getting. 

When he can’t stand it anymore, Shizuo goes to Shinjuku himself. He goes early, although Izaya had told him never to do this, with a lie prepared for the secretary in case she is around, but he needn’t have bothered; neither of them come to the door. He knocks harder, frustrated with the wasted time and the prospect of another sleepless night. 

_ It doesn’t matter _ , he thinks, to try and soothe himself, when it’s clear he’s going to have to head home alone.  _ It’s Izaya. You were bound to let each other down anyway sooner or later.  _ He _ wouldn’t get this worked up over you if the tables were turned. And anyway, it’s not like you’re even together-together. If you were, hell, he would have been with you for Kasuka’s thing. _

He feels a little twinge of guilt at this. He can’t help himself. He knocks again, loud enough for people a few floors down to hear. He’s about to give up when he hears movement behind the door. 

There’s another moment of fumbling before the door opens, revealing Izaya in the clothes he sleeps in, Izaya with a split lip and a black eye, his arm in a cast and clearly hurting him.

“Shit,” Shizuo says. “What happened to you?”

“Shizuo,” Izaya complains, like Shizuo has shown up making the most unreasonable demands. “What are you doing here? I’m tired.”

He pushes away from the door as Shizuo comes forward, rolling his eyes.

“What happened to you?” Shizuo repeats. 

“Nothing.” Izaya sinks to the couch, avoiding his eyes. “A misjudgement. Look, can you go away? I’m tired.”

“I’ve been calling you,” he says, suddenly furious, at not being involved in this. “Why didn’t you pick up the fucking phone?”

Izaya glares at him.

“Look at me, Shizuo - why do you think? I’ve been fucking resting.”

Shizuo bites back his response, not wanting it to turn into an argument, not when Izaya is tired and hurt and doesn’t have it in him to defuse the situation. 

“Did this happen the other night?” The guilt comes back just like that. “Is that why you called?”

“I didn’t call you,” he says irritably.

“You called me five times. I’ve got it on my phone.”

“I must have pocket-dialled you.”

“Five times?”

“I was probably hitting redial.”

Shizuo realises two things then; one, that his worst fears are confirmed that something _did_ happen that night, that Izaya never asked him for anything except for now, and he'd let him down. And two, obviously, that Izaya is really fucking mad at him. It hurts more than he ever expected

“I’m really sorry, Izaya.”

“For what?” he says, avoiding his eyes. “Look, can you go? I’m really tired. And don’t whine about me not answering the phone. I’m not answering it for another week. I want some peace.”

“What happened?”

“I’m going back to bed,” he says, ignoring him, and Shizuo knows he’s mad by the complete lack of emotion in his tone. He eases himself up from the couch, and Shizuo knows better than to try and help him. After a moment’s hesitation, he follows Izaya up the stairs and into his room. 

His bedroom window is open as wide as it will go, as if he misses being outside. Shizuo looks at him under the covers, feeling almost sick with guilt.

“Do you need anything?” he says. “I mean, if you can’t go out.”

“No.”

Shizuo backs out of the room. He checks Izaya’s fridge and cupboards, finds them mostly bare. He takes the informant’s spare key from the bowl, and goes out to restock: he’s been here often enough to know what Izaya generally likes. He gets bits for himself as well, on the off chance he will be able to stay the weekend. 

Back in the apartment, he puts it all away and takes the informant some fresh water. 

“I thought you left,” Izaya says, eyeing him as he sips it. 

“Do you need anything else?” He eyes Izaya’s shirt where it rides up, revealing more bandages, and wonders if he has cracked his ribs. “I could do your laundry.”

Izaya almost chokes with laughter, clutching his ribs as it hurts.

“God, Shizuo, what has gotten into you? I’m not going to make you do my laundry.”

Even laughing, he still sounds cold. Shizuo doesn’t blame him.

“I just - I just want to help you?”

“Why?” he says, and just like that the edge is back in his voice. “I wouldn’t help if it were you. I’d tell you it was your own damn fault.”

Shizuo says nothing. He knows he wouldn’t need Izaya’s help in the first place, because Izaya would have answered the phone. 

“How was it, anyway?” he asks, some of the anger finally creeping into his tone. “Kasuka’s big night?”

“It was fine,” he says uncomfortably. “Are you sure you don’t want anything? I can bring you some books.”

“No,” he says again. 

He does however allow Shizuo into bed with him, seems to thaw a little after an hour or so. Shizuo thinks it’s maybe not as bad as he’d originally feared, that Izaya’s taking it rather well. _He_ wouldn’t let Izaya near him if the tables had been turned.

“It looks worse than it is,” he mutters, and Shizuo can feel himself relaxing with it, the tension from the past few days finally giving. “I’m just tired all the time. Strong painkillers.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Izaya shrugs in his arms.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I didn’t answer because I thought you were winding me up.”

“I know,” he says tiredly. “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have called you anyway.”

“No, you should have,” Shizuo insists. “You should - you should call me when you want to.”

“We’re not married, Shizu-chan.”

_ And we never will be at this rate _ , Shizuo thinks, has no idea where the thought came from. He brushes it away hurriedly.

“Let me stay here this weekend,” he says, wanting to ply him with food and bad movies and generally pester him until he gives. It is exactly what Izaya would do in his position, and for all their bullshit and his distance now, he knows Izaya likes him.

“I won’t be any fun. I’m too tired.”

“I don’t care. You can sleep the whole time.”

“I’m not in any trouble, Shizu-chan,” he says. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Good. I don’t work weekends.”

Izaya laughs, and gives him a playful little kick.

“Don’t make me laugh. It hurts my ribs.”

“Sorry.”

They don’t speak again, but Shizuo decides he’s staying anyway. 


End file.
